Last Dream of the Four Gods - 四神の最終夢
by WhiteSaille
Summary: *Yamazaki bonus chapter is up!* As conflict brews across Japan, new allies and foes cross paths with the Shinsengumi... including several new women. At the heart of it all is the legend of the Four Gods of the Oni, who have a final chance to accomplish their purpose. But will the machinations of the demon clans save the world, or tear it apart? Lots of pairings in the future.
1. Snowflake Capital

Hello everyone! I've become obsessed with Hakuoki lately and decided it's time for me to write a fic for it. This story is starting from the same place as the series and game, but I am bringing in additional plotlines that will make the end result quite different from the canon plot. I'm using the episode titles as the chapter titles so that it's easier to keep track of where my story is in relation to the series. If you haven't played the PSP game, there may be eventual spoilers for some of the paths, which I will try to remember to point out when they occur (but you could fix by playing the game, it's awesome ^_^).

The usual disclaimer: I don't own Hakuoki. If I did each of the guys would get their own series. Only the OCs are mine.

Most importantly, please review! My muse feeds on your reviews, and right now her tummy's rumbling ;)

* * *

Snowflake Capital / 雪華の都

-xXx-

hajimete no  
yuki yami ni furi  
yami ni yamu

first snow -  
begins in the darkness  
ends in the darkness

Nozawa Setsuko

_-xXx-  
_

_January 1864_

The snow fell silently in the moonlight, clinging to the naked branches of the cherry tree in the courtyard, clothing the roof tiles in brilliant white. They were the big flakes that only form when the temperature is just below freezing, drifting lazily to earth on this windless night. Shoko took a tentative step into the courtyard, the raised wooden surface of her geta keeping her feet above the new-fallen snow. The flakes swirled around her as she moved, melting quickly on her dawn-gray kimono but lingering in the brown hair that fell loose around her shoulders. The young woman raised her face to a sky black as ink, feeling the flakes brush her face with feather-light touches and marveling at the way the snow seemed to just appear out of the darkness high above.

"Come back inside before you catch a cold, Hidaka-kun," a voice called softly from the engawa. Shoko smiled as she turned to face him, knowing his use of her family name was meant to remind her that she was doing something stupid. They had gone beyond those formalities months ago.

"Just a minute more, I love the snow," she replied, before a playful light kindled in her eyes. "If you're so worried that I'm cold, Sannan-san, why don't you step out here and keep me warm?"

He sighed, catching the inflection that emphasized the name so little used between them, and stepped out into the courtyard. Shoko's way with words was one of her best qualities, though she kept it well-hidden behind her quiet manner. Even more cherished was the teasing demeanor that she seemed to save for him alone.

Sannan reached out and took her in his arms, watching the snow catch in the hair that framed her face. Where the trapped snowflakes caught the moonlight they twinkled like tiny stars. "You are so beautiful tonight," he murmured, running one hand through her hair as his other arm pulled her against him. "Even if you are a crazy woman with no regard for her health."

Shoko smiled again, gray eyes sparkling as she rested her arms on his shoulders. "If a woman is crazy, what does that make the man who loves her?"

He laughed softly, the sound reverberating against her body. "Such a man must be a great fool indeed."

"Mm, my mother always said I would fall in love with a fool," she whispered as he bent his head and kissed her.

-X-X-

At that very moment out in the darkness, only a few streets away, a girl in boy's clothing was running breathlessly from a pair of would-be thieves.

Chizuru hid behind a barrel in the alley, her heart pounding so loudly after the chase that she was almost surprised that the men searching for her didn't hear it. She barely dared to breathe, fearing her warm breath steaming on the cold air might give her away. The steps advancing down the alley were drawing ever closer to her hiding place, and Chizuru gripped her sword hilt tightly, expecting at any moment to be forced into a fight she could not hope to win.

A short swish followed by the wet collision of blade and flesh marked the demise of one of her pursuers. The other turned, confused, to be met with a gale of insane laughter. Chizuru peered around the barrel just enough to see two white-haired men in pale blue haori further down the alley – if they could truly be called men, their vacant eyes an impossible red and inhuman grimaces twisting their features. A moment later, one of the strange intruders bit down hard on the ronin's katana, and Chizuru suppressed a gasp as the steel shattered.

The ronin tossed away his useless sword and drew the smaller wakizashi at his waist. He landed a vicious cut across his attacker's chest, deep enough that the blue-clad warrior should have been bleeding on the ground a moment later, but he seemed unfazed by the assault. Chizuru clasped both hands over her mouth to keep from crying out as the strange creature overwhelmed his stunned opponent, his path bringing him even with her hiding place.

Before the ronin even hit the ground, the white-haired creature had turned to Chizuru, a mad hunger gleaming in its devilish eyes. The girl was rooted to the spot by fear; she knew she should at least draw her sword and go down fighting, but her arms would not obey. The fearsome stranger raised his katana high, about to bring it down in a killing blow, and Chizuru closed her eyes, unable to stare any longer at her certain doom.

A wet squelch followed by total silence ensued, and feeling no pain, Chizuru opened her eyes. Another warrior in a blue haori stood behind her attacker, his katana thrust cleanly through the other's heart. A heartbeat later her savior withdrew his sword from the creature's chest, purple hair fluttering as he turned to shake the blood from his blade in a single smooth motion.

As he sheathed his katana, footsteps echoed down the alley. "What a pity. I wanted to kill both of them myself," said the newcomer as he stepped into Chizuru's line of view. "You only finish your work fast in times like this, Saito-kun." The girl marveled at the teasing tone in his voice with so much blood around them.

Saito turned to face the other man. "I only did as my duty required," he murmured. Chizuru was too absorbed calming her racing heart to catch the subtle undercurrent of reproach in his words: unlike you, I take no pleasure from killing.

As the russet-haired warrior stepped closer to his companion, his green eyes fell on Chizuru where she still crouched behind the barrel. He flashed her a small smile, and the girl let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Suddenly there was a third figure stepping forward from the darkness, his sword already drawn and pointed at Chizuru's throat. Shadows hid the man's face from view, but his voice rang with a note of command. "Listen, don't try to run. If you try to run, I'll kill you."

As Chizuru looked up along the gleaming edge of his blade, a cloud passed from the surface of the moon, throwing the man's features into sharp relief. Long black hair blew around his face, and deep violet eyes fixed her with a calculating stare. There was a predatory beauty to his features, fierce and sharp like a bird of prey, yet with the snowflakes drifting around his face all Chizuru could think of were cherry blossoms falling out of season.

She had only a few heartbeats to appreciate the sight before the shock of her ordeal finally caught up to her, and Chizuru felt the darkness rushing up to claim her.

-X-X-

Somewhere not too far away, Sannan lay quietly in the dark, one arm draped protectively over Shoko's waist. He looked beyond her sleeping face to the single window facing the courtyard, seeing only a blank square of moonlit sky. With his glasses safely folded beside the futon, he couldn't tell if the snow continued or had stopped. It was one of the ironies of nature that he had been given a strong body and quick reflexes, and yet such weak eyes.

Shoko mumbled something inaudible in her sleep and turned on her side, her face nearly level with his own. Sannan slowly moved his hand to brush a stray tendril of hair from her cheek, careful not to wake her. Her lips twitched upward at his touch, as though she were smiling in her sleep. The sudden realization hit of just how much his life had changed in a little over a year, and he cast his memory back to the cold November night when it all began.

-X-X-

Sannan had lingered in the small restaurant until long after dark, having nowhere in particular to go. He had pretended to read at his table in the back corner since late afternoon, but he found he couldn't keep his attention focused on the neat columns of characters for very long. He had studied at the Shieikan dojo for two and a half years, and considered many of the men there good friends. What troubled him was the nonchalance more than a few of them displayed toward the obvious crisis brewing in the country. The Emperor was beginning to take an active role in politics for the first time in centuries, and attacks against both foreigners and the shogunate itself were increasing. If the situation continued on this path, open war could well be the result.

Only a month before, a Satsuma daimyo had killed a wealthy British merchant on the Tokaido road [the major route between Kyoto and Edo at the time] for some imagined insult. The British ambassador was angrily demanding outrageous sums of money in compensation, and had gone so far as to threaten attack on Edo itself if reparations were not made. While Sannan did not doubt that the bakufu would submit to the foreigners' demands, he had no such illusions about the notoriously proud Satsuma. Incidents like these only fueled the fire for those who would seek to replace the shogunate with a government more willing to take a stand against the Westerners. Sannan could not shake the feeling that war was coming, yet so many men who should share in his apprehension were indifferent.

It was well after dark when the serving girl approached him warily, reluctant to disturb a man clearly so deep in thought. "Excuse my intrusion, honored guest," she began formally, her eyes never leaving the floor, "but it is late and..." catching sight of his surprised expression through lowered lashes, her voice trailed off.

"Of course, my apologies," Sannan said, setting out his payment and standing to give her a slight bow. "I lost track of time. Thank you for letting me know."

He had paused on a bridge only a short distance away, in no hurry to return to the dojo. The moon was nearly full, and bright moonlight reflected over the water below him. The river was frozen at the edges, but the fast-moving water in the center resisted the ice. Sannan stared into the rippling current for a long time, still lost in his thoughts.

His musings were interrupted by a sharp cry of alarm. Turning toward the sound, he saw the girl from the restaurant backed up against the wall of a nearby shop, her eyes wide with fear. Three ragged-looking men surrounded her in a half-circle, blocking her escape. The street was nearly empty and the few who watched from the shadows were not coming to her aid. Sannan rushed forward, his hand already tight on the grip of his katana.

"Leave her alone!" he shouted as he closed the distance between them. "Don't you have anything better to do than harass young women in the street?"

The three turned as one to look at him, but only their apparent leader spoke, a big man who was clearly used to getting his own way. "It's no business of yours, ronin. We're just looking for a little entertainment." His lips curled into a cold sneer on the final word that left little doubt as to his intentions.

Sannan said nothing, but his left thumb moved to loosen the katana in its scabbard.

The other man laughed in response to the silent challenge. "In case you haven't noticed, there are three of us and only one of you."

"Those are still less than even odds for you," Sannan said softly, and drew his blade. The hiss of metal as it left the scabbard seemed loud as a battle cry in the deserted street.

Predictably, the leader was first to engage, testing him with an opening cut that Sannan parried almost lazily. The brown-haired ronin held back, letting the larger man attack while he gauged his opponent's defenses. His technique was solid, but his narrow repertoire of moves soon fell into a definite pattern of attack. A small smile played on Sannan's lips as he parried his foe's advances.

"What's so funny, ronin? You haven't even attacked me yet. Are you even going to fight?"

Sannan merely kept up the smile, sidestepped the predictable downward slash and ran his blade along the man's right arm from wrist to shoulder, a thick line of blood springing up in its wake. The would-be attacker fumbled his weapon as his sword-arm lost its strength, clearly out of the fight. Sannan's gaze shifted rapidly between the remaining two troublemakers, silently daring them to attack. After a few seconds, both men sheathed their blades and grudgingly led their leader away.

With the men gone, Sannan stepped toward the woman who had been the focus of the conflict. "Are you all right?" he asked, pitching his voice soft and low in an effort to soothe her. She was younger than he had thought at first; he was probably close to ten years her senior.

She smiled up at him, hesitantly at first, then like a sunrise the expression spread over her face. "Thank you so much," she cried. "I didn't know what to do." He saw the slight tremor in her shoulders as she bowed to him in thanks, and for the first time noticed that her right hand was closed tightly around the hilt of a kitchen knife.

The young woman caught the direction of his gaze. "I always carry this with me when I close up the restaurant. After dark the streets can be unsafe." Something in her tone told him this wasn't the first time she'd run into trouble.

"Let me walk you home," Sannan said suddenly.

"Thank you," the girl replied as she tucked the knife into the knot of her obi. A clever place for it, Sannan reflected, since it was kept hidden and could be easily reached without drawing attention. Still, the small blade would have been little help against the three men that had accosted her. She might have managed to wound one of them, but that would only have made the situation worse for her.

The walk was short and uneventful, though Shoko surprised him with her pointed questions about what he had been reading all afternoon. The girl was better educated than most, and widely read, with a thoughtful demeanor that was unexpected given her age. Sannan found that he actually enjoyed talking to her.

When she stopped in front of a modest samurai residence, Sannan's surprise must have shown on his face. "I am the third daughter, so my father asked me to work for my dowry." She smiled mischievously at him, already comfortable enough in his presence to make an attempt at humor. "I considered becoming a nun to save myself the trouble."

"What made you change your mind?" Her expression turned troubled for a fleeting moment, and Sannan worried that the question had been too forward. She hesitated before flashing a small smile.

"I still believe in love."

-X-X-

After that night Sannan had gone to the little restaurant more frequently, his halfhearted excuses never quite enough to convince himself that he wasn't there just to see her again. Before long he made it a point to arrive late, so that he could walk her home after she closed up, telling himself it was to ensure her safety. From there it was only a few weeks before he abandoned these mental pretenses altogether and began spending time with her outside of their evening walks. Everything had been going perfectly until the Roshigumi had formed and Sannan had moved with them to Kyoto. Gods, what a mess that had been. The forest-haired ronin counted himself lucky that their relationship hadn't been utterly destroyed in the process.

Sannan sighed into the darkness, unwilling to dwell on those troubling memories any longer. As he pulled her close again, Shoko nuzzled sleepily against his chest with an inarticulate murmur of contentment. He relaxed into the cocoon of warmth under the blankets, breathing deeply the spicy ginger scent of her hair, completely at peace in this moment.

In that perfect silence just before he drifted off to sleep, Sannan imagined he could hear the unseen snowflakes falling onto the roof above their heads.

-X-X-

The same storm front that gently blanketed Kyoto in snow was taking a very different form one hundred miles to the north, over the Sea of Japan. In the colder temperatures over the water, the giant snowflakes became freezing rain, and high winds whipped the ocean into treacherous waves.

The sea was a vicious obsidian black, and the sky nearly as dark as the storm descended upon the clipper ship _Kestrel_. The foul weather seemed to have come out of nowhere, and at Captain MacAllister's command the crew was struggling to trim the sails to slow their mad dash into the heart of the storm.

Gareth fought to keep his footing as the ship listed heavily to port, black hair plastered to his face by the freezing rain. The ship slid down a forty-foot wave at breakneck speed, then the deck gave a sickening lurch as the sea lifted them once again onto a fresh wave's back. The empty rigging above glistened with a coat of ice, the few sailors who had stayed aloft long since tossed into the sea. Gareth was working the ropes, trying to rein in the mainsail before the wind tore it to rags.

"Turn the bow into the wind!" His father shouted, his rich brogue swallowed up by the gale as soon as the words were spoken. The helmsman struggled to comply, fighting with the wheel, but the monster waves had damaged the rudder and the ship did not respond.

A sudden gust snapped the sail to fullness, and the rope in Gareth's hands came alive, tossing him backward like a child's discarded toy. He heard the sails tearing as he flew to the deck, and looked up just in time to see a giant wave cresting over the ship. His last sight was of his father clinging to the rails, gripping the wood so tightly that his knuckles were white -

And then the water hit him like a cold fist, and the world went dark.

* * *

I've noticed that Sannan-san doesn't get a lot of love in the fandom, and I feel that's unfortunate. So yes, lots of Sannan fluff in this chapter, also partially to make up for the fact that things are about to get a lot worse for him.

Don't forget to feed the muse, she's hungry for your comments...


	2. Seeds of Upheaval, part 1

So this is going to be a two-part chapter. Mostly because without splitting it would be three times as long as the first one, but partly because I wanted to post updates about once a week and the last section of the chapter isn't quite done. I'll warn you all that this is going to be a long fic; my outline isn't finished yet, and it's ten pages single-spaced.

And a big thank you to HoshiiNoTenshi for giving this story its first review! It helps me keep writing to know that someone's reading and appreciating my work.

* * *

Seeds of Upheaval, part 1 / 動乱の火蓋

-xXx-

kesa mireba  
hana zo sakuya no  
kigi no yuki

last night's bloom  
lasting into this morning –  
snow on the trees

Den Sutejo

-xXx-_  
_

Gareth floated in darkness without any concept of time. The ocean beneath him rose and fell rhythmically as the breath of the world, and he focused on that one constant motion, matching his breathing to the steady pace of the waves.

He couldn't tell how long he had drifted before the movement stopped. The roar of ocean surf was loud in his ears, and rough sand grated against his face. Ripped from the embrace of the ocean, he felt suddenly cold.

And someone was poking him in the shoulder.

"See, Shunsuke? I told you there was a dead guy on the beach!" The young voice sounded far away to Gareth's ears. He knew a few words of Japanese from Kyukichi, one of the sailors on the _Kestrel_, but all he picked up was "dead." Insulted at being called a corpse, Gareth tried to swat the child away but found his arms refused the command.

"Stop poking him, Kazu, that's disrespectful. Do you want his ghost to haunt you?" Again Gareth came away with only the key word of the boy's question. He tried again to move, wishing he had the words to tell the boys that he was going to do far worse than haunt them if they didn't stop poking him with that _damned_ stick, but all he could manage was a weak shudder and a cough.

"Aiee!" The younger boy shouted, leaping backward as the stick fell from his hand, certain that the dead man was about to take his revenge.

"Shut up, Kazu, he's not dead." There was a moment of pressure on his shoulder, and Gareth felt himself being rolled over onto his back. He opened his pale blue eyes just a little, but the sun was so bright that he quickly closed them again. "Are you okay, mister?"

Gareth managed a groan and tried again to open his eyes. Squinting against the bright sunlight, he saw the boy bending over him, concern in his face.

"I'm going to go get mother. Kazu, stay with him, okay?" The older boy had already stood and turned to run away along the beach.

His younger brother plopped down onto the sand beside him and unleashed a torrent of questions without so much as pausing for breath, most of which Gareth couldn't understand. "What's your name, mister? Where are you from? Those are some strange clothes, are you from across the sea? Maybe you're a demon from under the sea? If you are a demon from under the sea, are you going to eat me?"

Gareth tuned out the little boy's endless stream of questions and tried to get his bearings. The beach was nearly empty as far as he could see, but in the distance he noticed a single small house, and beyond that, a narrow pier jutted out into the ocean. As he watched, the door of the house opened and the older boy came out, followed by a woman. The sleeves of her blue kimono fluttered as she ran after the boy, black hair streaming out behind her. Watching her run, suddenly Gareth felt very tired. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes and slept.

-X-X-

Shoko fidgeted as she waited on the bench, shifting to keep the chill of the stone surface bearable. It was early in the morning, just after sunrise, and tendrils of mist snaked between the trunks of the temple garden's barren maples. A thin crust of ice still covered the pond before her, but the days had been warming recently. It seemed the worst of winter was over, but the break in the weather did not bring her joy, because it meant that Sannan and Hijikata were finally free to travel to Osaka.

The crackle of a dead leaf underfoot caught her ear, and Shoko turned to see Sannan making his way along the path. "Did I keep you waiting long?"

"No, not long at all." The girl managed through sheer force of will to stop herself from leaping off the bench and running to him. He had enough to worry about on his journey; she refused to add to his troubles by reminding him how much his absence would hurt her. She waited until he sat down beside her before affectionately leaning against his shoulder. "So you're leaving today?"

"Right after this. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye, we saw how that turned out last time."

"Of course, you wouldn't want me following you to Osaka," she teased, forcing a smile she hoped might look sincere. "I promise, I won't do that."

He turned to face her, pulling the girl into a gentle embrace. "You don't look happy about it, though."

Shoko gazed up into his warm hazel eyes. "Do you remember what I said to you when I first came to Kyoto?"

Sannan looked through her, seeing her tear-stained face as though that day were yesterday, rather than almost a year in the past. His lips moved in time with the ghostly image from his memories, the words falling out in a whisper. "'I left all of my old life behind. I have only you, and that is enough.'" Whatever Shoko was looking for in his eyes, in that moment she found it.

"Close. But I didn't say 'enough.' I said 'everything.' I will wait for you." She stretched upward, her mouth meeting his with the tender familiarity of lovers who have already explored every curve of each other's lips. His arms tightened around her as though he would never let her go, and in that long silence Shoko tried to memorize each detail: his strong hands turned so gentle on her body, the warmth radiating from his chest as she leaned against him, the steady drumming of his heartbeat at her ear.

As he finally pulled away and stood to leave, Shoko called after him, "You had better come back to me, Keisuke."

He stopped, turning to look at her over his shoulder, and gave one last little smile before walking away. Shoko's throat constricted painfully. Of course, he couldn't promise her that. She turned away from his retreating form and let the tears flow silently over her cheeks.

-X-X-

Chizuru stared out her window into the courtyard. It was early morning, and the world outside was painted white, utterly transformed by a thick blanket of snow. After the recent warming trend in the weather, last night's storm had been unexpected, but the girl was glad to see one last snowfall before winter gave way to spring. Snow always brought back happy memories.

The Shinsengumi compound was silent this early; her first guard of the day hadn't even arrived yet. Chizuru wished they didn't have to guard her, as she was sure there was something more important the captains could be doing. Besides, she disliked the implication that they mistrusted her enough to require watching. Though she had been joining the officers for meals in the vice-commander's absence, Chizuru still felt uncertain of her place within the group. Even the shared meals might end once Hijikata returned from Osaka.

The lure of the unspoiled snow outside her window was difficult for the girl to resist. She began to wonder if anyone would notice if she slipped out into the courtyard for a moment, at least long enough to make one last snow rabbit. Chizuru smiled to herself as she slipped on a deep blue jacket over her usual kimono and hakama, remembering the snow rabbits she'd made for her father last winter.

Chizuru opened the sliding door slowly, careful to make as little sound as possible. She crept across the engawa to take a seat at the top of the steps to the courtyard, where the overhanging roof had kept the wood planks free of snow. Reaching down, she scooped up a handful of snow from the second step and set to work.

Within minutes Chizuru had made a perfect snow rabbit, just big enough to fit in both her hands. She placed it on the edge of the wooden decking, overlooking the courtyard and its unbroken snow. After a moment, the girl decided that the solitary rabbit looked lonely, its berry eyes seeming to hold an expectant gaze as if waiting for a friend. She decided there was time to make one more, just so the little snow creature wouldn't have to be alone.

Chizuru lost herself in the familiar rhythms of shaping the snow, and before long there was an entire procession of snow rabbits along the engawa's edge. She was just putting the leaf-ears in place on what she silently promised would be the last one, when a familiar voice rang out behind her.

"Hey, Chizuru-chan, what are you up to?"

The girl started and nearly dropped the snow figure, catching it just in time. She half-turned to see Heisuke Todo standing just behind her, and relaxed a little at the sight of his usual grin. "I'm making snow rabbits, see?" She raised the creature up toward him.

Heisuke bent to inspect her masterpiece. "It's really cute. What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm going to put it here with the others." As she stood to put the bunny in its proper place, Heisuke noticed for the first time the small army of snow rabbits marching along the edge of the decking, and immediately doubled over laughing.

"Wow, Chizuru-chan! Were you ever going to stop making them?"

A blush crept over the girl's cheeks. "Eventually..."

"Heisuke-kun! I thought I heard you out here." A tall man was walking toward them, his spiky brown hair bound up with a green headband. Just behind him was an even taller redhead, looking disheveled and clearly miserable in the bright glare from the snow.

"Sano-san, are you okay? You look like you don't feel well." Chizuru stepped toward the redhead hesitantly, her eyes round with concern, but his shorter companion only laughed.

"He's learning what it feels like to try and outdrink the master." Shinpachi clapped his friend on the back for emphasis, and was rewarded with an amber-eyed death glare.

"I'll win next time, Shinpat-san, I was just having an off night."

"I'm ready for a rematch when you are, just name the time-" The brown-haired man stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of Chizuru's handiwork. "What in the hell are those?"

The girl started to respond, still a little awkward in front of the captains, but Heisuke answered first. "They're snow rabbits. Chizuru made them."

"Aww, did you help, Heisuke-kun?" Shinpachi grinned as he mussed the boy's hair.

"I'm not a kid, old man." Heisuke scooped up a handful of snow from the steps and sent a snowball flying into his tormentor's face. As soon as he saw Shinpachi's murderous expression, he took off running across the pure snow of the courtyard, topknot fluttering behind him.

"Oh, you are _dead_, kid. Just wait till I catch you!" Shinpachi wiped the slushy mess off his face and took off after him, grabbing snow from a nearby bush as he passed.

Sanosuke sighed and slumped down against the wall, watching the two warriors chase each other across the courtyard. A moment later Chizuru moved to sit beside him. They watched in silence for several minutes as the snowball fight progressed, punctuated by the occasional yelp when one or the other made a particularly well-aimed throw.

Neither noticed when a purple-haired man, drawn by the shouts and laughter, appeared further down the engawa – until one of Shinpachi's snowballs went wide off its mark, finding a very different target. Hajime Saito chuffed in surprise as the cold snow hit his face, quickly recovering to shoot Shinpachi a glance that made Chizuru shiver.

"He's really done it this time," Sanosuke chuckled beside her. "The next time they spar, Saito-san might actually hurt him."

"You mean he was _trying_ to hit Saito-san?"

"Well, Shinpat-san doesn't usually miss. But I wonder what Saito-san was looking at that he didn't see that snowball coming?"

-X-X-

Chikage Kazama sat quietly on the temple roof's edge, looking out over the sleeping city. He rather liked this vantage point, the capital spread out far below like a kingdom at his feet. His mind worked to memorize the details of the streets as the silent buildings slumbered beneath a blanket of snow. The waxing moon lit his blond hair like a beacon, and he briefly wondered what sort of superstitious nonsense a human below would invent to explain the sight, if any were awake to see.

The soft crunch of a footfall snapped him back to awareness, and Kazama spun to face the interloper, sword flashing out in a rising arc as he stood in a single fluid motion. The tip of his blade halted a hair's breadth from Kyuujyu Amagiri's neck, but the big man did not so much as flinch.

Kazama glared at his guardian for a moment before sheathing his katana. "What have I told you about sneaking up on me like that, Amagiri?"

Amagiri ignored the question, instead producing a folded sheet of paper. "Your father has sent a message."

The blond broke the red wax of the seal, imprinted with his family's tiger crest, and unfolded the paper. His father's small, precise calligraphy was immediately recognizable. The head of Kazama clan was a man of few words, and as always his message was clipped and brief, bereft of any superfluous words of greeting.

_Be advised that I have sent the Kazama no ashin to Kyoto on family business. You are to aid him as much as you are able, so long as doing so does not conflict with our obligation to Satsuma._

Kazama's red eyes flashed in the moonlight, his handsome features twisted into a scowl. His fingers closed reflexively, crushing the delicate paper in his fist. "He's ordering me to watch my cousin." He practically spat the final word, a bitter curse upon his tongue.

"So the Kazama no ashin is unleashed at last," Amagiri murmured. "I had heard your father deemed him unready last autumn. Something about a lack of control?" He leveled a pointed gaze at his shorter companion which went unheeded. Of course, the boy had always been blind to criticism unless it was painfully obvious.

"He will always be unready." Amagiri caught the undercurrent of resentment in his words. "And now my father expects me to keep him in line. As if I care what happens to that branch-family idiot."

"When you are head of Kazama clan, his future will be your responsibility. Remember, he is the last. Regardless of your feelings about him, his power has its uses. For now, you would be better served if he remains alive." Amagiri privately worried about the fate of the Kazama family if its heir would put petty jealousy above the interests of the clan, but sternly reminded himself that his charge was young yet and still had time to grow into his obligations.

As if in response to his retainer's thoughts, Kazama breathed deeply, forcing himself to calm down. He had his own mission to fulfill, and he was not going to allow his cousin's presence to affect his success. "We don't have time to go looking for him."

Amagiri moved to stand beside Kazama, staring out over the silent city. "I strongly doubt that we would need to seek him out. When he arrives in town, we'll know." Chuckling softly, he added, "For one thing, it will never be this quiet again."

* * *

Poor Saito... maybe I should write his revenge on Shinpachi later. Also, even I'm surprised that I made an Assassin's Creed reference _and_ a Metropolis reference in the same paragraph. Ten points to anyone who spots 'em.

Last chapter, I felt that I had to include Chizuru's first meeting with the Shinsengumi to set things up, but I didn't want to make a habit of rewriting something we've all seen from the anime or the games. Instead, I decided to write about an event that could have happened between the familiar scenes. Did this work for everyone?

Fyi, the little boy on the beach, Kazu, is short for Kazuya. For any Saito fans out there with Android phones, there's a free app on the marketplace called "Sleepytime Boyfriend Kazuya" that features the very talented voice actor Kosuke Toriumi... the man who gives Saito his wonderfully sexy voice. It lets you wake to Saito's voice as your alarm... ::melts::


	3. Seeds of Upheaval, part 2

Seeds of Upheaval, part 2 / 動乱の火蓋

-xXx-

kaki wo mite  
kaki wo maki keri  
hito no oya

looking at persimmons-  
the parents of strangers  
planted seeds

Kobayashi Issa

-xXx-

The last heavy snowfall was melting in the courtyard when a russet-haired man came to visit Shoko at the restaurant. She froze when she saw him, afraid that her legs would give out if she dared to take another step. The room suddenly seemed too small, the air too thin to sustain her. Over the wild thumping of her heart she could hear the china cups rattling on the tray in her hands.

He crossed the floor to her in a few steps, moving with an easy, catlike grace to take the tray before she could drop it. Her gray eyes locked into his deep green ones, pleading, but he said nothing as he steered her to the privacy of the courtyard.

"Is he dead?" The words leapt out before she could stop them, though the answer terrified her; her voice a papery whisper as if she hadn't spoken in years.

Okita shook his head, tousled brown locks framing his downturned face. "He's hurt though." He didn't look at her, and Shoko wondered what he was holding back. "It's his left arm. Damn ronin sliced him up pretty bad."

The breath she had been holding left her lungs in a rush, as though she had been punched in the stomach. Growing up in a samurai family, she had no illusions about the consequences of such an injury to a warrior. "Can you take me to him?"

He stared at the ground, as if his feet had just become the most interesting sight in the world. Shoko had never seen Okita nervous about anything before. He bit his lower lip, clearly searching for the right words. There was only one reason she could imagine for him to be so evasive, and it brought the punched-in-the-stomach feeling rushing back with a vengeance. "He doesn't want to see me."

His head snapped up, and one look at those green eyes confirmed her fears. "He wants to wait until he is healed."

Shoko took a deep breath to steady herself as her thoughts raced. At first she was hurt that Sannan would push her away like this, but the more she dwelled on the situation, the more a simmering anger grew within her. Hadn't she made it clear to him that she would stay by his side no matter what? His stubbornness infuriated her all the more for hiding so well under that kind, serene exterior. What was he thinking, to avoid her at a time like this-

Her train of thought screeched to an abrupt halt as a strong pair of hands came to rest on her shoulders with surprising tenderness. She glanced up to see Okita staring down at her, concern in his usually carefree features. "I'll tell him how you feel, but I really don't think he'll change his mind." A small laugh escaped his lips. "You're right, he's a lot more stubborn than he lets on."

Had she just been thinking out loud? Shoko felt the color rising to her cheeks as she tried to stammer out a coherent reply.

Okita tried not to laugh at her obvious embarrassment as he stepped away, but it was a losing battle. Seeing the angry glare she directed at him, he sighed. "Meet me back here this time tomorrow. I might know someone who could help you out, you know, understand a bit at least?"

She couldn't restrain her curiosity. "Who?"

"The boss' wife. Kondo Otsune."

-X-X-

Shoko hesitated in the open doorway long enough that Okita reached out to give her a gentle push inside before sliding the screen shut again. At the far end of the room, beneath an open window, sat a young woman with glossy black hair bound up into an immaculate nihongami. As the woman rose to greet her guest, Shoko was struck by the design of her pink kimono, embroidered with dozens of tiny cherry blossoms edged in gold thread. The flowers on the body of the garment were intact, but on the sleeves they gradually became individual petals. As she moved her arms, the design created the illusion of sakura petals falling around her.

In the time it had taken to make this appraisal, the woman glided across the room to stand before her guest, petals fluttering again as she bowed. "Hidaka-san, I am so pleased to meet you. Won't you please come and sit with me?"

Shoko bowed nervously. Dressed in a plain kimono with her hair gathered into a loose chignon, she felt like a drab bird in the presence of a swan. "I am glad to meet you as well, Kondo-san. You can call me Shoko-chan if you like."

The lovely woman smiled conspiratorially at her guest as she floated back to her place beneath the window. "Please call me Otsune-chan, you'll make me feel like an old woman. Would you like some tea?"

Shoko gratefully accepted as she took her place across from Otsune. They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their tea. After a while the black-haired woman took up an embroidery frame from the mat beside her and resumed stitching the white petals of dogwood flowers into a pale green cloth. It was clear that she was going to wait patiently for her guest to speak her mind.

Finally, Shoko ventured to fill the silence. "Your kimono is very beautiful. Did you make those flowers too?"

A slight blush appeared on Otsune's cheeks. "Yes. I am glad you like them." After a moment, though, her face turned serious. "But I know you did not visit to ask me about my sewing. Something must be troubling you for Okita-san to suggest that you come to see me."

Shoko stared at her lap, unsure of where to begin. "He thought it might help me to speak to someone that could understand my situation."

A small smile graced the older woman's features. "So you've fallen for one of our Shinsengumi. It's not Okita-san, is it?"

The girl laughed, shaking her head fiercely. "No, it's Sannan-san."

Otsune grinned mischievously at her guest. "Hmm, I recall Okita-san once mentioned an Edo girl that swore to follow Sannan-san to Kyoto. I suppose that would be you?"

Shoko blushed crimson. "He promised not to tell anyone."

"Your secret is safe with me. Okita-san never told me the whole story, only that Sannan-san had found love. He knows how much I worry over the boys' futures." The fond look on her face made clear that she viewed every one of the Shinsengumi captains as a surrogate son, despite the fact that some were of an age with her.

Otsune paused a moment in her work and raised chocolate-brown eyes to the younger girl. "It can be difficult when you love a man so completely devoted to his ideals." When Shoko nodded, she continued, "Believe me, Shoko-chan, I do understand that. We place them first in our hearts and lives, but we are forever resigned to second place in theirs."

Something cracked inside her then, to hear her own thoughts so perfectly echoed by another woman. Shoko felt hot tears course down her cheeks. "Sannan won't even see me until he's completely healed. It's his stupid warrior pride, he doesn't realize that I don't care about all that. I mean, I know how much it means to him, but doesn't he know that I would love him regardless?" Her voice broke, and she stared into her tea, embarrassed to be crying in front of this lovely creature.

Otsune stood with the same fluid grace she had shown before and moved to sit beside the younger girl, wrapping her in a loose embrace. "It's all right to cry, Shoko-chan," she soothed. "It's all right." They sat like that for a while, until the girl's shoulders stopped shaking and her tears subsided.

"I'm just so afraid to lose him," Shoko mumbled at last as she straightened, her voice still thick with tears. "I gave up everything to follow him to Kyoto, but even a year later I feel alone here."

Otsune smiled, relieved at last to be presented with a problem that she could solve. "I, too, left my family and friends in Edo behind to follow my husband. Kyoto is more traditional and slower to accept new people than our old home, but there are friends here if you know where to find them." She gently raised the younger girl's chin to look into her red-rimmed gray eyes. "I will be your friend, Shoko-chan. You are always welcome here."

-X-X-

Spring was giving way to summer when Gareth at last prepared to leave the little house by the sea. The closest seaport open to foreigners was at Kobe, on the opposite coast some distance to the south. The sailor doubted that he would hear any word of the _Kestrel_ or its crew, but he had no idea what other course to take. It seemed unlikely that the ship would have made it through the storm; he had seen enough of the sea's cruelties to know most likely it had gone down with all hands aboard. Even his own survival seemed a miracle.

As Gareth paused in his work to watch Shunsuke and Kazu chase each other across the sand, he reflected on his strange luck. The little house stood half a mile from the village of Sakajiri, all alone along the coast. Had he washed up anywhere else, he could have died of exposure, or fallen into the hands of the ever-present imperial nationalists with their overriding hatred of foreigners. Instead he had spent four months with Haruna Midorikawa and her two sons, probably the most peaceful time of his adult life.

At first he had simply taken everything in, puzzled by this way of life so different from the rough and boisterous atmosphere of the ship. As the weeks passed and he learned more of the language, Gareth came to know the family better. He knew that Haruna stood stubbornly out on the pier every day at sunset, scanning the horizon for her husband's fishing ship lost two summers ago; that Shunsuke, at ten years old, already felt torn between taking on his father's trade or leaving for the city; and that Kazu, a whirling ball of raven-haired energy, was absolutely fascinated by their guest's strange sword.

"Satoru! Watch this!" Kazu called as he dueled an imaginary opponent up the slope of a dune. The entire family had given up trying to pronounce his foreign name rather quickly. Shunsuke had solved the problem by dubbing him "fast learner" for the speed with which he picked up the new language, and the name stuck. Gareth found he didn't mind, and it might help him fit in on the road.

An hour later, Gareth was ready to set out. After saying his goodbyes to Shunsuke and Kazu, he sought out their mother, who stood on the end of the pier. "I wanted to thank you," Gareth began haltingly. He knew the words well enough, but gratitude felt strange and foreign on his tongue. "Everything that you've done for me. I can never hope to repay your kindness."

Haruna turned to face him, her smile serene as always. "It was no trouble. I hope that you find what you are looking for out there." She stepped closer, reaching out to adjust the collar of his hand-me-down kimono shirt. "You wear these clothes well," she said at last, "no one will suspect that you're really a woman."

He – no, _she_ – stood rooted to the pier, pale with shock. "You knew this whole time?"

Haruna nodded. "I cannot imagine your reasons for doing so, but I think it is very brave. It will be better on the road anyway, women are not permitted to travel alone." She stepped back, still smiling. "Before you go, may I know your true name?"

"It's Grace."

"Ga-ra-zu," she repeated, stumbling a little over the final sound. "Then farewell, Garazu-chan."

-X-X-

"There is nowhere else in the city where we might enjoy privacy at this hour," Amagiri remarked as he followed Kazama up a wooded slope in the Emperor's vast private gardens. "You must admit, he chose a clever place for a meeting."

His companion paused a moment in the climb. Even in the gathering dusk, the message in his red-eyed glare was clear: I will admit no such thing. "I fail to see why he was in such a hurry to meet us. Whatever he needs, it could have waited until later tonight."

"It is not as though we had anything important to do at the moment." Truth be told, both of them were bored. Kyoto might be full of diversions for a human, but for demons with their vastly superior skills, nothing in the city presented a challenge.

The blond crested the small rise and stopped, muttering a barely intelligible curse. Amagiri followed his gaze down to the pond at the foot of the hill. A figure stood on the pebbled shore, looking out over the water. All that could be seen from this distance was his long hair cascading down his back, pale as sand. As they approached, he turned to face them, a confident smile lighting his narrow features.

Kazama spoke before the other could even open his mouth, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So the great and powerful demigod of Kazama clan finally graces mere mortals with his presence. What would you have us do, O White Tiger of the West?"

The demon's green eyes flashed with momentary anger, but then he smiled again, speaking as though the words had been sincerely meant. "I require information in order to carry out my mission. Surely you know why I have been sent to Kyoto?" His grin suggested he knew very well that Kazama had not been informed of his purpose.

"Perhaps we could hear from your own lips why you are here, Makoto-sama," Amagiri interjected, suddenly very aware that he walked a tightrope between two volatile personalities. He heard Chikage draw a sharp breath at the honorific, even as a broad smile spread over his cousin's face.

His ego appeased, Makoto paused a moment for effect before speaking. "I am here to begin the task of the Kazama no ashin as in every generation before me. It is my destiny to find and destroy the other three, once and for all."

At this, even Amagiri paled. "Lord Kazama has sent you on the hunt already?" He was at least a decade younger than any of his predecessors had been.

"We have credible information that a member of Yukimura clan has been seen in Kyoto. With their family all but destroyed and driven underground, finding the ashin of the East will not be easy. We could not pass up this opportunity."

Kazama shook his head in disbelief. "Even if the Yukimura no ashin is here, why on earth would my father send you? Does he really expect that you can control yourself in the capital?"

Closing the distance between them, Makoto snarled, "Are you trying to provoke me, cousin?"

"No, _this_ would be me trying to provoke you." The hiss of steel sliding from the scabbard was followed by a deep growl as Makoto leapt back from his cousin's wild swing. The air shimmered around him as he moved, and something shifted faster than even a demon's eye could follow. The feet that touched the ground a moment later were the paws of a large white tiger, his golden eyes shining with rage.

Demon and tiger stared each other down as Amagiri looked on, trying to gauge whether he should step between them. The cousins had been rivals since the day they were born, and as Chikage's guardian the red-haired warrior was no stranger to breaking up their quarrels. Still, this time felt different, out in the human world with each having something to prove. He decided not to interfere yet, curious to see how his charge would handle the situation on his own.

After a long minute, Kazama laughed, sheathing his blade. "I knew you weren't ready. This is a city of humans. You can't just change into a tiger every time you're threatened." He made a sound of disgust as he turned to walk away. "Learn to use your swords. Show us that the power wasn't completely wasted on you."

"Never turn your back on me, Chikage," the tiger growled in a deep bass that startled the birds from the trees.

Amagiri was between them in an instant, shifting easily into a battle stance. The tiger stared him down for a long beat, then gave a noise that might have been a sigh. Half a second later, Makoto stood before him in his usual form. "Do not forget that you speak to your leader's son. Lord Kazama will hear if you threaten him again."

"I wouldn't have killed him or anything." Makoto frowned, an echo of the petulant child Amagiri remembered. "Now can you tell me about Yukimura or not?"

Chikage had already started back up the slope. "Yukimura isn't part of our mission, cousin," he called over his shoulder. "His clinic was destroyed by fire during the winter, and he hasn't been seen since. He could be dead already."

Makoto huffed in frustration, staring out over the glassy surface of the pond. "I doubt he would die that easily. I suppose I will have to find him on my own."

* * *

So, lots of new information! I wanted everyone to get used to thinking of Grace as a guy before I spilled her secret, since that's how others would perceive her. Not a lot of backstory yet, but Grace has a lot more experience at pretending to be a man than Chizuru does. We'll see how that works out for her...

Also, I realized that the term "ashin" which I've been using for this chapter and the previous one may not be clear. Basically it means "demigod," so I've been using the two interchangeably. I promise there is more to come about the role of the ashin in the plot.

And finally... I really want your opinions on the character of Otsune. There's very little information out there on Kondo's historical wife, except her name and the fact that she was the daughter of a Tokugawa retainer. I imagined her as being refined yet sometimes a little mischievous, with a big heart like Kondo-san, and the picture of social grace where his honesty sometimes comes off as social clumsiness. And of course, like her husband she is protective toward the other Shinsengumi members. How did I do with her?


	4. Yamazaki Bonus Chapter

In honor of both Valentine's Day and the one-year anniversary of Demon of the Fleeting Blossom's English release, here's a bonus extra chapter featuring everyone's favorite princess-saving ninja. ^_^ Sorry it's a day late... but enjoy anyway!

* * *

Dream of the Dragonfly / 蜻蛉の夢

-xXx-

tombo no yo  
kasegi shitari  
kado no tsuki

the dragonfly goes about  
his night work –  
moon at the gate

Kobayashi Issa

-xXx-

It was nearly midnight on a June evening, and the night breeze was warm as a lover's caress as it moved over the streets of Kyoto. A lone figure left the gate of the Shinsengumi compound and merged effortlessly into the shadows cloaking the surrounding houses. Susumu Yamazaki had moved in the darkness for so long that he no longer had to think about the path that would best hide him from prying eyes.

The surveillance of the Choshu spy, Shuuntaru Furutaka, was not going well. The Shinsengumi had turned a blind eye when Furutaka set up shop as Masuya; they knew that the enemy in plain sight was always better than the hidden one, and while the Choshu continued to meet at Masuya's, they could be easily watched. Though the man's landlord passed along information from time to time, it had been decided that Shimada and Yamazaki would also conduct their own surveillance as needed. Their informant's latest report suggested that the Choshu were planning something big, so the two spies had been taking turns watching the shop over the last several days without any real success.

Perhaps it was the fatigue from three days of twelve-hour stakeouts that dulled his senses, but the black-clad agent failed to notice a shadow moving along the darkened balconies overhead, trailing his movements with silent precision.

Yamazaki had just entered a particularly dark alley when a bolt of black dropped from the rooftops with the blinding speed of a falcon diving for its prey. A sharp blow to his head, and he crumpled to the ground.

He must have blacked out for a moment, for when he awoke he was pinned to the wall with a strong hand gripping his throat. His violet eyes snapped open to meet another gaze only inches from his own. His attacker had a narrow face and sharp features dominated by eyes the faded green of dying grass. His blond hair seemed similarly washed-out, as though all the colors had drained from him. Yamazaki struggled just enough to test the man's grip, hoping to find a weakness. The tall warrior's fingers tightened slightly in warning and the smaller man stilled, continuing to hold his assailant's gaze.

"I have heard that the Shinsengumi are making inquiries about Yukimura. Why?" The man's deep voice carried a note of anger that sounded almost like a growl.

Yamazaki knew he couldn't possibly answer the question, but perhaps he could deflect it. "That depends who wants to know."

"I could crush you like an insect." The hand tightened on his throat again for emphasis, just enough to send a bolt of pain into his already throbbing head. Yamazaki gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on his attacker. After a long beat the man added, "You may call me Makoto."

"It may be possible that Yukimura-sensei survived the fire. His body was never found." That last bit was not quite common knowledge, but if this man knew that Yamazaki was with the Shinsengumi, he was good enough to find it out on his own.

"Citizens say that a boy has been walking with your patrols, asking if anyone has seen the doctor. Is the boy related to Yukimura?"

This train of thought was too close to the truth for Yamazaki's liking. He hoped the momentary surprise he felt at Makoto's question hadn't shown in his eyes. "The boy is Vice-commander Hijikata's page, nothing more. He asks after Yukimura because we would never waste the time of a Shinsengumi warrior with such a trivial task."

Green eyes narrowed, seeming to distrust this explanation. Makoto opened his mouth to speak again when a shout sounded from the darkness at the mouth of the alley. "Hey, what are you doing there! Let him go!" Yamazaki turned his head just enough to see a shadowy figure, eyes shining with an eerie blue-green light. The foxfire glow illuminated a shortbow, arrow at the ready and aimed squarely at Makoto's chest.

"I suppose our little talk is at an end, then." The tall blond made as if to let go, but instead slammed his captive back against the wall with surprising force, leaping upward at the same time. The archer fired, but the arrow met with thin air as Makoto sailed impossibly high, landing on the rooftops above and swiftly disappearing from sight.

Yamazaki leaned heavily against the wall, vision swimming as pain lanced through his skull. He felt warmth trickle down his scalp at the back of his head, and a hand raised to the spot came away wet with blood. Determined to get back to headquarters, he staggered down the alley, fighting to focus on taking one step at a time. He tried to force his hazy thoughts into some semblance of order as he moved. He couldn't be sure that his attacker was gone; he needed his wits about him.

A gasp broke his fragile concentration, and Yamazaki stumbled forward, his head snapping up to see a girl standing before him. She was dressed from head to toe in deep blue, her pale, delicate hands still holding a bow at the ready. All the meager light in the alley seemed to settle in her cloud of wild red-gold hair. Yamazaki found he couldn't take his eyes off it, even as his traitorous knees buckled under him. He was dimly aware of the clatter of wood as she dropped her bow to stop his fall.

This time Yamazaki was lying on the ground when he awoke, but someone was pressing a cloth to the back of his aching head. He opened his eyes slowly to find the girl bent over him, her brow furrowed with concern. His head was resting in her lap, her long hair brushing against his face each time she moved. He tried to sit up, the pain in his head forcing a gasp from his lips, but a gentle hand pushed him down again.

"I wouldn't try that just yet. Besides, your head's bleeding. Just lie still for a minute." Yamazaki didn't have the strength to argue at the moment, and clearly she meant him no harm. Feeling him relax just a little, the girl smiled. "My name is Aiko."

"I am... Susumu Yamazaki." He had a dozen aliases, but he felt he owed her more than a false identity.

"Susumu," Aiko repeated slowly, her lips caressing each syllable. "I like that name."

They sat in comfortable silence for a time. Yamazaki glanced up at her more than once, but she was clearly lost in thought. At last, she murmured, "That man who attacked you is very dangerous. You would do well not to cross paths with him again."

Now he did sit up, forcing down the pain to see her face to face. "You know him? Who is he?"

Her tawny eyes glanced everywhere but at him, her agitation suggesting that she had already revealed too much. "I know _of_ him. He is very powerful. Not someone you would want as an enemy." A small shiver ran through her as she spoke.

"And yet he ran from you." Aiko grew very still, and he knew he had trapped her in her own words.

After a long pause, she whispered, "I was sent here to protect someone from him. I'm sorry, but that's all I can tell you." Her gaze locked on to his, pleading silently that he would let the matter rest. He stared back, unable to look away. She looked about to cry, but he had no idea what had upset her.

Just then, a shout interrupted the moment. Yamazaki heard Shimada's gruff voice calling his name somewhere nearby. Of course, he was late arriving to his post.

"I have to go," Aiko said, and suddenly her small hands were cradling his face and her warm lips pressed against his in a desperate kiss. Yamazaki had half a second to be shocked before his muddled brain responded of its own accord, his lips returning the kiss with a ferocity that surprised him, as if the girl had awakened something dormant within. She pulled away at last, her large eyes shining with unshed tears as she stepped back –

And then she was gone, and he could never quite explain how she disappeared. Later he would tell himself that the whole encounter must have been a figment of his imagination, brought on by the blow to his head. He would have believed that explanation wholeheartedly too, except for the torn scrap of deep blue fabric he had found in the alley that night, stained with his own blood.

* * *

I have to admit I've never had an original character like Aiko loose inside my head before. She was originally created to be paired with someone else, but once I started writing her, she completely hijacked my plans and decided she wanted Yamazaki... who was only supposed to be a minor character. I never planned for her to kiss him at the end of this chapter, either, but somehow I wrote it anyway. I'll be interested to see how she surprises me next.

And the more I write Yamazaki, the more he grows on me too. He might not stay a minor character for long.


End file.
